


Because You're Mine

by apanoplyofsong



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Halloween, Haunted Houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apanoplyofsong/pseuds/apanoplyofsong
Summary: Bellamy Blake is not a fan of Halloween, but Clarke's got his back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of [You're Such a Big Mess](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8174887/chapters/18730045) is coming, I promise! It just takes more creative energy and brainpower than this quick little piece did. 
> 
> Title from Nina Simone for obvious reasons. Very light warning that this contains brief descriptions of fictional gore related to haunted houses (the constructed events, not 'ghosts live here' ones) and also that this was written quickly and barely edited.

Bellamy Blake is not a fan of Halloween.

He goes through the motions--gives out candy to the kids in his apartment complex, hums along with Nina Simone, makes sure everyone stays hydrated at any parties he gets dragged to--but Clarke knows better.

In the two years she's known him, the most involvement he’s had in anything more intense than “It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” is attending their Witchy Movie Marathon. Watching the Sanderson sisters be foiled by Max and Binx while munching on whatever weird Oreo’s have come out that year is where he draws the line. No matter how much his sister attempted to wheedle, guilt, or blackmail him, avoiding horror was the area where Bellamy stood firm.

Which is why it’s such a surprise that he’s even made it to the parking lot of a haunted house on the day before Halloween.

“I just don’t understand why people _want_ to be scared,” Bellamy complains, voice slipping into a whine. The rest of the group is waiting in line for tickets, leaving Clarke to attempt to convince him to actually come inside. “I mean, it could at least be free. Why would I spend money on this?”

“It is free for you. Octavia’s paying. That was part of the bribe, remember?” Clarke wraps her jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. It’s been a mild autumn so far, but it’s still getting dark and a definite chill is seeping into the air.

“Yeah, well, that deal didn’t include me _losing my goddamn mind_ to get through this hellhole.”

She doesn’t roll her eyes at his grumbling, but it’s a close thing. “Come on, Bellamy. Think about the adrenaline. We’re biologically wired to have a response to fear. People _enjoy_ adrenaline.”

He glares at her, but looks away when he starts to fidget again. He can’t even look at the warehouse behind her for more than a minute at a time. It’s a little endearing, really.

Clarke softens. “You can always wait in the car, you know. No one will hold it against you.” Bellamy raises an eyebrow and she snorts, conceding. “Okay, so Octavia would hold it against you, and Miller would probably tease you for a while, but it’d be fine. Really. It’s not a big deal.”

His shoulders drop and she steps forward instinctively, one hand coming up to squeeze his arm. He’s warm even through the layer of his sweater. She tries not to notice her fingers tingle with it.

He shakes his head. “No, I want”--a deep breath--”I want to come with you. Uh, with all of you.” The tips of his ears glow red in the fading light and he looks almost shy when he meets her eyes. Tentative.

It’s so unlike Bellamy’s usual certainty that her heart wrenches.

“How about this?” Clarke says, standing straight and channeling all the confidence she has. “We’ll let everyone else go a little bit in before us. We can maybe get a sense of what’s coming. And I’ll stay with you, right in front, so no one can even jump out at you.”

He rocks a little on his feet, looking at her from under the dark sweep of his lashes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got you.” She smiles, grabs his hand. “So come on.”

His feet only drag a little as he follows behind her.

They loiter a little at the back of the group while a bored teenager with a red cape and fake blood dripping down his chin runs through the preliminary information.

“Don’t touch any of the performers inside and they won’t touch you. Arkadian Enterprises reserves the right to ban anyone from their properties so, like...don’t punch people and shit.”

Octavia twists around in the crowd as the list of rules goes on, shooting a look in Bellamy’s direction so smug that Clarke can practically hear the unspoken _See?_ that goes along with it.

And he does seem to relax slightly, his grip on the hand she hadn’t fully realized he was still holding loosening as the worker wraps up, droning that they should follow the flashing pumpkins to the exits in case of emergency.

Clarke stops herself from bouncing on her toes as she waits for everyone to trickle through the entrance ahead of them. She loves this kind of thing, always has. Her dad used to tell the same story every year, in which a toddler Clarke had laughed herself off-balance when the Headless Horseman accidentally wandered through the children’s section of a Halloween festival her parents had brought her to.

And..it’s kind of nice to have Bellamy along for the experience this year.

It’s nice having him along for anything. He’s her best friend. Everything’s better with him beside her.

Lights glints off of Monty’s glasses as he turns to laugh at something Monroe’s said and then their friends are through the gates, the echoes of voices and sound effects surrounding Clarke for a brief moment before she tugs on Bellamy’s arm.

“Come on, let’s go!” She smiles over her shoulder at him and he grimaces back, so put out that she would laugh if it weren’t for the dread she sees in his expression. “Hey, I’ve got you, remember? It’ll be fine.”

Bellamy takes a breath big enough that she can see his shoulders rise, feel the tickle of air when he finally exhales. “Yeah. Alright. Let’s do this.”

“There’s the enthusiasm I’m looking for.”

She catches a glimpse of his reflection in the entry hall, a maze of mirrors filled with smoke and hosting severed hands that reach out for them at random intervals. Bellamy’s staring determinedly at the back of her head, face grave like he’s going into battle, so she squeezes his hand, just enough to see his eyes lighten for a moment, before leading them into the first room.

It goes surprisingly well, really. Clarke rubs her thumb across his fingers anytime something particularly startling happens, Bellamy pushes in closer to her back after he’s caught off guard lingering in a doorway, and he even chokes out a laugh when a demon rabbit trips over its giant carrot mid-leap.

Plus, she has an excuse to hold his hand for almost 30 minutes, his body radiating heat behind her as his breath tickles her neck, and it almost feels like she could lean into him, slide his arm around her waist and he’d be fine with it, maybe even keep her anchored to his side after they made it back out into the night.

Soon enough there’s only one room left. Bellamy doesn’t fight this time when she tugs him forward, just matches his steps to hers and follows behind. The room is painted entirely white, lights dulled so that everything glows a hazy gray, the chatter of machinery buzzing in the background so it echoes under her skin. Clarke takes in the hospital set up, the blood splatter on the walls, the tray of teeth and something gummy left out next to a centrifuge. It sends a spark of electricity up her spine and she revels in it.

Then someone grabs her shoulders, and shakes.

She stifles a yell but jolts hard, tripping back into Bellamy so that he braces a hand on her hip to steady them both. Delirious laughter builds in her throat as she takes in her attacker--a man that’s lanky and young, hair teased up into a nest upon his head, bearing the white coat and scratched goggles of a clearly mad scientist.

The bubble bursts as soon as she registers Bellamy tense against her back, breath coming in small shallow puffs. Her fingers squeeze his tightly and she takes a tiny step forward.

“Hey!” Clarke isn’t tall, not built for physical intimidation, but she grew up watching her mother drive sexist men to deference and every skill that ingrained in her comes through now, back drawn straight and voice cold as it fills the space. “I thought you weren’t supposed to touch people!”

The guy in front of her takes several steps back, hands held up in front of him as he steps out from in front of them. “Sorry, man! My bad.”

Clarke nods, sharp, then pulls Bellamy towards the glowing exit sign without so much as a glance off the path, doesn’t pause until they’re several yards into the field between the warehouse and the parking lot when she registers Bellamy trying to get her attention.

“Clarke.” His voice is a little rough and it startles her. She doesn’t think he’s spoken since before they went into the haunted house. “Clarke!”

One strong yank on her hand has her spinning around, stopping with Bellamy’s sternum directly in her line of sight. The dip of his sweater leaves his collarbone exposed and she watches it move for a second, easy and even, before sweeping her gaze up across the lines of his face. His curls are messy in the wind, eyes still wide and a little wild, but he just huffs before wrapping his arms around her, forehead dropping down so that it’s buried in her neck, breath warm where it glances off her skin.

Clarke pets at his hair, uncertain of what’s happening but certain she’s not going to resist. Looping her other arm under his to rest against his back, she’s still trying to come down from her anger at Bellamy being so startled for her, at the success of their trip not ending well, when Bellamy starts shaking against her, shoulders wracking against her own with the movement. She weaves her fingers further into his hair, hoping there’s still some part of this that’s salvageable, but when he lifts his head, the shine in his eyes isn’t from tears.

He’s _laughing_.

“I can’t believe--you did--” Bellamy shakes his head, cutting himself off with another wave that leaves him grinning. His face is bright and she can’t help but echo it, leans into his hands when they come to frame her face. “That was--you were--” This time when he breaks off, he moves forward until his mouth dips down against hers, lips firm and familiar and beautifully new all at once.

“That was kind of amazing,” he says finally, voice and eyes gone a little soft as he watches her, strokes his thumb against her cheek.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “It kind of was.”

When she presses back in to kiss him again, she catches his smile against her lips.

 

* * *

 

The next year, he turns on _Practical Magic_ once Clarke’s hung up the plastic ghosts in a huddle above the living room, wanders into the kitchen to find snacks without a comment.

“We can fast forward through the resurrection scene if you want,” she calls, once the hum of the microwave has died down and the smell of popcorn permeates their apartment. Bellamy hates the part where Jimmy comes back to life and he’s watching willingly--they can take advantage of the DVR’s functions. Clarke’s fine with that.

“Nah,” he says, coming back into the room with a bowl full of popcorn and another of sour candy. “I’ll be fine. You’ve got me.”

She presses her grin into his shoulder when he joins her on the couch, settles back into his chest when he wraps himself around her.

They’ll both be fine, she thinks.

He’s got her, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an actual, very much non-romantic, family occurrence in which I am very much Bellamy.  
> Because seriously, dude, you weren't supposed to touch people.
> 
> [tumblr](http://apanoplyoffic.tumblr.com/) etc etc


End file.
